


Vitya's Yuuri

by katsukiy



Series: tumblr prompts [9]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Yuuri adjusts to the russian life, by becoming everyone's fave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 08:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukiy/pseuds/katsukiy
Summary: When Katsuki comes to St Petersburg, Yakov doesn’t think much of it.





	Vitya's Yuuri

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Витин Юри](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358762) by [green_pastry (Weis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weis/pseuds/green_pastry)



> For the prompt: "Yuuri, when he means business, is almost frightening to be around" - about Yuuri skating.

When Katsuki comes to St Petersburg, Yakov doesn’t think much of it.

He screams at Vitya, nonetheless, because he must be out of his mind to think he can coach and compete at the same time. He doesn’t tell him that in the privacy of his head, he thinks that if someone could do it, it would be him. That’s not necessary. Vitya already knows.

He prepares himself to coach another head, either way, and gazes seriously at Katsuki’s movements, evaluating.

The boy is undeniably good. A little rough at the edges, nerves frazzled, but good.

With a little regret, Yakov thinks he’ll have to start polishing his english again. But Katsuki speaks russian. Accented, but precise, he addresses the world with concentrated eyes and a blush on the bridge of his nose. (When asked, he tells him nervously that he’s taken online classes to learn russian since he was fourteen, and glances at Vitya like that’s something to do with him. Vitya smiles, squeals and tackles him to the ground, like that’s the most heartfelt love declaration he could receive. Later, Yakov learns that it is.)

 

Katsuki is like a whip. He skates past them with determination etched on his face, sweat clinging his practice clothes to his lean body, and takes off in jumps that he lands terribly often. And when he falls, he falls like he’s trained all his life exactly for that moment. Like _falling_ is the real challenge.

“My Yuuri,” Vitya sighs, flopping on the bench besides him, admiration deeply rooted in his eyes and a loopy smile “when he means business, he’s almost frightening to be around.”

Yakov can see that. No matter the nonsense around him, Vitya’s Yuuri keeps skating. Yakov slips pointers through his teeth, and he listens, tries again, incorporates the advice in his routine.

Vitya’s Yuuri _is_ a frightening sight, on the ice. He never relents, fights with fire in his eyes, not even when it’s clear his nerves are getting the best of him. Not even when Vitya whines at his side to just go home, _I’m tired, Yuuri, pretty please, I miss Makkachin_ , firmly vouching for five more minutes, which become an hour more.

Yakov gives Yuuri the keys to the rink. He knows he’s going to use them to skate his nerves out, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He knows the power of his skates carving lines in the floor like a butter knife at three am, the eerie reassurance of the empty expanse of freshly pressed ice with nothing but your breath to break the silence, and he trusts his judgement enough to not find him passed out on the ice in the mornings. He never has to take it back.

Yakov can see the admiration into the russian team’s eyes. He can see behind Yuratchka’s scowl whenever he asks Yuuri to show him a move again, and behind Gosha’s tears when Yuuri sits down on a bench with him to console his broken heart. He can see behind Milka’s mean spirited jokes as she asks him for a selfie in outrageous poses. Yuuri can’t. He stutters, flushes, but does the step sequence again, pats delicately Gosha’s shoulders and takes the selfie. He gathers everyone round for lunch and they laugh together, and he doesn’t know that before him, no one would stop for enough time to make their breaks coincide.

Vitya hugs him, kisses his knuckles in between coos and gag noises (that’s Yuratchka) and looks happier than Yakov’s ever seen him.

“Trust Vitya to find an unpolished gem all the way from Japan to bring back here,” he gruffly comments during supper, downs a glass of water right after. When he glances up, Lilia has her typical determined expression, and Yakov knows what that means.

“I will meet him,” Lilia says.

The next day, Yura stumbles through the porch and into the house, and Lilia offers him the strongest tea they have in the pantry. They stay cooped up around the table for an hour, then disappear into the dance room. After two more hours, Yura hastily excuses himself because “I have a needy husband, it appears,” and bows stiffly before fleeing. He still has ballet shoes on.

With her hand on the railing of the stairs, Lilia presses her lips into a thin line, curves them a tiny bit. “When the boy has done his time on the ice, I want him to come teach in my studio,” she tells him. “He’s going to join us for tea often,” she adds, with no particular inflection, and turns her back to him.

Yakov doesn’t smile, but he comes scarily close.

**Author's Note:**

> I undeniably used the prompt to gush my feelings about Katsuki Yuuri the extraordinarie, smittening his way through the crowds. He's amazing and everyone loves him, because of course.  
> You'll notice that the name Yakov addresses Yuuri by in his head throughout the fic changes. That's to represent not only the passage of time, but also the grade of fondness™.  
> Tea with Lilia becomes an habit, no matter how many whiny texts Viktor sends. And of course Yuuri starts training with Lilia, too.  
> Look at my boy go //wipes proud tears
> 
> "Why are titles hard" a novel by me.  
> You can find me @[tumblr](http://yuriplisetsk.tumblr.com)! Prompts are accepted and incouraged.  
> As usual, kudos and comments are my life source.  
> 


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